Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ A Difference of Sides ❯ 1:? ( Prologue )

~~Warning/Disclaimer~~ This story was created out of the ideas in my head. The characters and places aren't mine, only the idea-of course the cronies are my invention. This fic will contain a LOT of bad language, sex-YAOI sex, mind you-so you've been warned on that end, at least. If you deem yourself mature enough to read this, then do so, just don't bitch cuz I traumatized you. *smirk* Anyhoo-this fic is supposed to be a sort of dark angsty/action/romantic hate/love/wild romantic sorta thing.

~~Summary~~ Daisuke and Ken have never met, in this fic. It's AU. Daisuke is in a gang, and Ken's a prissy rich boy (by Dai's reckoning) and they end up together because-well, that's a secret. But there's handcuffs involved!!

Hehehe….onwards to the fic and enjoy!!

~A Difference of Sides~

:one:

With a sullen pain gnawing at the edges of his mind, the left side of his neck a throbbing ache, Daisuke woke to find himself upon something soft, and smelling slightly of mold. He blinked, and a sluggish glance around showed the room was semi dark, with a single low-watt bulb in the corner to shed light.

Great.

Muddled, thinking vaguely that he could have sworn he hadn't touched a drop last night and he certainly wasn't into the kinky stuff like Miya, he turned his head with the next thought, ~Some kind of freaky hotel?~ Flat out upon his back, stretched out near something warm, Daisuke turned his head the other way and realized that there was a pale-skinned and frail-looking boy curled up next to him.

A strange sort of shock ran down his back with icy tips. ~Oh we did not-tell me I didn't take him home…~

He turned his head a fraction more to get a better look at his unconscious companion, frowning, aware of an dull ache just behind his eyes and a stiffness in his muscles. A long moment passed while he looked, and after a moment he decided that the face he could just make out was flawless. Sculpted cheekbones, narrow brows, long dark lashes...

~Well, maybe it's not so bad…~ he thought, and enjoyed the brief moment of appreciation for the boy, no matter how strange the circumstances. He ignored the blatant fact that this one seemed to be definitely not his type. The boy beside him wore expensive looking clothes, impeccably clean and tailored, only slightly rumpled from sleep. Long hands curled near his face, giving him a look more angelic and innocent. Hands that he could tell had never seen more work than lifting a pencil.

He frowned a bit harder, working his mouth and jaw to remove a lingering foul taste and absently raised his hands to rub against his cheeks as he thought, ~I really hope he isn't some spoiled brat-~

~Wait…what the fuck?~ With a bewildered look, Daisuke pushed himself up, looked down at a strange weight around his wrist, and after a brief disbelieving moment, exhaled in shock. There was a cuff around his wrist, odd looking and not too tight, but enough so that slipping his hand free would be impossible. The small interlocking chain made faint silvery noises as he raised his arm. ~What the fucking hell?~ he thought, and scrutinized it-

-There was no visible lock-and, as he followed the chain down, the other end to the strange cuff was locked around the wrist of his companion.

~Okay, this is fucked up.~ Scowling and confused, Daisuke glanced over at Sleeping Beauty, and tugged at their bound wrists, his left and Daisuke's right. "This so isn't funny," he muttered. "You're really cute, but I do not go into this kinda crap-"

The boy murmured something in reply, a sleepy mumble, strands of a dark-colored hair sliding over smooth cheeks. Daisuke blinked, the scowl still on his face, and looked closer.

"Hey-" he whispered after a moment, and leaned over the form. ~I know his face…I think. I've seen him somewhere…~

But that was impossible. His dark mood swallowing him up, Daisuke sneered and whispered harshly, "Hey, wake up!" Then the redhead prodded with a finger, shifting painfully-his head had begun to pound the moment he decided to move to a semi-seated position-but there was no reaction. After a second of thought he looked around again. He wasn't sure if he had been struck, but his head ached fiercely, and his throat burned oddly.

Looking around he realized that the situation was not good.

He wasn't even in a bed-fuck, he wasn't even in a room! The only thing other than a low table and a stark toilet was the lumpy mattress, with a single sheet. No windows adorned the walls. There was no door, giving the room the illusion of a sealed cave. There was no way to know how long he had been out. His watch was gone, as were his shoes. With a suspicion and hopeless horror, Daisuke reached around with his free left hand, digging into the back of his pants-

~Oh shit no…they're gone…~ He bit off a curse and felt the first real edges of fear creep closer. His knives were gone. His weapons. Everything-someone was definitely doing their best to make sure that he stayed put.

"Fuckfuckfuck..."

And he is still chained to the other kid-despite the allure, it didn't hold very much promise at the moment. "You little brat, wake the fuck up!" Daisuke leaned over again and shook him roughly, heedless to any other injuries. He didn't care. He didn't want to be alone, and he didn't want to be here period. This place reeked of bad things-and he most definitely didn't want to be chained to some spoiled rich boy for some pervert's insane kicks.

"S'op," the kid mumbled sourly, and curled his arms around his head. "Lemme s'eep."

"No-no sleep! Wake up-what the fuck is going on?" Daisuke hissed, and pinched him with stiff fingers. "Who the fuck are you?!"

The other boy yelped, swatting at Daisuke reflexively, startled into awareness by the pain. Bleary eyes, an indistinct dark color, peer at him from behind his arms. "W-what?" he rasped, eyes darting from his angry face to the surroundings. A distrustful glower appears on that face, confusion in those eyes bleeding the color into a paler shade.

"First things first," Daisuke muttered. "Who the hell are you-" he watched with dark eyes as the boy pushed to his elbows, and then finally upright. "-and why the fuck are we handcuffed?"

Jumping at his hissed words, the nameless teen jerked his head around, eyes wide. "What are you talking about?" he finally replied in a hoarse voice.

Without speaking, almost snarling, Daisuke pulled up his hand, fingers wrapped in the chain and tugs. The other's wrist leapt upwards in response, and he stared at Daisuke in horror. His eyes flickered down, staring blankly at their wrists.

"I…I don't-"

~Okay, so maybe this isn't his idea.~ Daisuke narrowed his eyes. "Do you remember anything about how we ended up here? Cuz if this is a joke, I'm seriously gonna kick your ass."

"Excuse me?" Startled eyes flew to meet his, and Daisuke felt a strange sense of amusement even as he pushed the sensation aside.

"Look, you twit-we're chained together in a strange room. I don't know what kind of kinks you get off with, but I'll thank you to leave me out of them."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the boy spat, eyes narrowing as his anger catches up to him. "This is none of my doing. The last thing I remember was studying in my room-and then I wake up here with you of all things, so don't get any ideas, you stupid punk."

Daisuke slitted his eyes into a threat and leaned closer "You'd better start thinking, rich boy-I don't wanna be here any more than I have to. Especially with some milk-fed pansy like you." He watched those eyes darken in what might have been anger, or something worse, the single bulb giving off the palest illumination, and thought to himself on how pale the skin seemed. How dark the hair, and long the hands-

And how pretty the anger made him-The boy sneered at him, flushing along the narrow bones of his face, and his hands clenched. Thoughts forgotten or pushed aside in the adrenaline of a fight, Daisuke grinned nastily at him, daring him to do strike him, to do something-

-But the chance passed as quickly as it manifested when something clunked overhead with an odd whining hum. They both looked up, fear and apprehension paling them both, and Daisuke shifted uneasily until the silence fell down upon them again. He didn't like thinking about what could come next, who could come inside and hurt them-and for a moment he wondered if the boy has any clue what might happen-if they would be killed or hurt or worse… He glanced over, noticing the way the boy had dropped his eyes to his wrist in concealed panic and was squinting at the cuff in the poor lighting.

A fainter noise, one that the boy didn't appear to notice in his inspection of their bindings, catches Daisuke's attention and draws his eyes to a blank section of the wall. A faint line of darkness is edging down from the low ceiling, and as Daisuke watched, a glimmering line of light flickered.

~It's a door,~ Daisuke realized, and felt a light-headed sense of anticipation and dread, all rolled into one shuddering feeling. He reached over without thinking and grabbed at the other's arm, receiving a dark look of loathing in immediate response.

At the same time, though, the boy sensed his preoccupation. Instead of shrugging off the hand, or perhaps striking it away, he followed the intense gaze and froze into hunted stillness, the dark look evaporating into a strange calm face. A cold and eerily prepared face.

Daisuke pulled his hand away and crouched on his knees, balanced and wound tight for any action necessary, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

The door slid open with a faint hiss, smoothly moving into a slot set inside the wall, seemingly disappearing. On the other side stood several men, average sized, and silhouetted from the brighter fluorescent lights that shone in the hall. They were wearing suits, he noted, and tensed slightly as they came forward into the dimmer light. Their features were shadowed, and the clothing oddly unremarkable, despite the fine cut and apparent wealth. Their movements screamed out danger to Daisuke, and unconsciously, he scooted backwards a fraction. He was mildly comforted to see Ken doing the same, despite the fact the boy lifting his head with irrepressible arrogance.

"Well, well," the first man said, a lean sandy-blond man with pale skin. "The boss was right. The kid's gorgeous."

~…fuck…~ Daisuke thought with a sinking cold horror. ~oh fuck…~

"Yeah," the second replied. Short graying hair graced his head, the remains of a poorely shaved beard lay in scruffy patches on the slight wattle of his throat. His eyes, small and dark, were calculating and cruel, even in the poor light. His hands were blunt, and rather meaty, and his larger size sent shivers down Daisuke's back. He knew without a doubt what the men were thinking, knew and feared it, even as anger bubbled deep inside. He made his face into a mask of caution, staring up at them with a mistrustful gaze and primed muscles.

~How the hell did I get mixed up in this?~ he thought.

"We don't have time for that," the third said from behind them both, and narrowed a dark look at his companions. His long pale hair was tied back, and his paler eyes, resembling ice in more ways than one, settled upon the slim form of the rich boy. The thin lips smiled, and the third man said, "Ichijouji-san, how nice to see you."

~…Ichi…jouji. That's familiar too…where have I seen this kid before?!~

Ichijouji said nothing in reply, his gaze wary, and his posture radiating fear and anger, a desperate sort of pride.

"I assume you're wondering why exactly we stole you away?"

Eyes that glimmered a dark indigo in the low light narrowed into slits, and Ichijouji tilted his head in a way that made him appear superior. "Among other things," he said slowly.

"Our boss wishes you out of the way-unfortunately, he could not kill you himself, or have you killed in a more blatant way-" the white-haired man smiled slowly as he said this. "So we found a solution to get rid of you, and supply us some necessary income."

"Ransom," Ichijouji stated dryly. "I'm to be ransomed before you murder me."

White teeth flash in a wolfish smile. "Of course," the man demurs.

"Then why-" Ichijouji raised his bound wrist in a controlled angry movement. "Am I bound to this cretin?" He sent a steely glance of dislike to his left even as Daisuke narrowed his eyes, and bared his teeth in a feral smile, but the redhead didn't take his gaze off the trio of men.

All three men smiled maliciously, humoring some inner secret joke, and allowed their glances to slide to Daisuke. His skin crawled as the first man slipped his gaze lower. The third stepped closer, and crouched down to the level of their eyes, his suit making faintly crisp sounds and his hands folded neatly above his knees. "Well," he said to Ichijouji, still smiling that evil smile. "He's here to receive everything we're not allowed to do to you."

~...oh god…please…~ Daisuke snorted in disdain, hiding the surge of cold fear and sneers. "How exciting," he replied in a bored voice, finally speaking. "So if he pisses you off, I get kicked around? That's typical."

"Not exactly," the third man said, and stared at him for an increasingly disturbing moment, the smile in place and the eyes calculating. "But then, I think you know."

"Oh, I do," Daisuke gritted out, hunching instinctively and fisting his hands. "And you'll lose those balls if you try-if you have any, you fucking lackey."

For his sharp tongue he received a blow to his face that glanced along his cheek and snapped his head back violently. Stars of pain shimmered in the darkness as he brought his head back around and insolently wiped at his mouth. He smiled, faintly pleased, and noted that the third man seemed aggravated by his lack of control.

"Itsumaki-" the second man, shifting, began to step forward. The blond man merely held up a hand and stopped him with a motion. He continued to sit, staring hard at Daisuke even as the blood trickled past his mouth again, bitter copper on his tongue.

The boy beside him, Ichijouji, made a faint restless noise, eyes shuttered as he glanced back and forth, arm slightly extended to allow as much room as possible between them.

"Ichijouji-san, perhaps you should take this time to rest. I'm sure you're feeling…tired," Itsumaki said after a moment, still gazing at Daisuke with a vague threat in those icy eyes. Daisuke knew in a flash of brief thought that when it happened, this man would be first.

And it would hurt.

"I want to know what I did, if you will," Ichijouji replied, sounding a bit bored. He raised a brow at Itsumaki, one of patience, and crooked a cold smile at the man.

"Ah, but you already know the answer to that," Itsumaki replied in a mocking voice, smiling darkly. Then he stood, backing up exactly one pace. His subservient companions watched with narrow and unfeeling eyes as they moved with the Itsumaki, making it impossible for any attempt to wrest their freedom-even if the Ichijouji kid had been able to do something, which Daisuke doubted. He scowled faintly, staring down Itsumaki even as the door slid shut, and hissed out a foul word.

Then a fist smacked him painfully on the shoulder and a furious voice shouted: "Baka-are you insane? What the hell was that about?! You just had to go and get him angry!!"

Daisuke turned his head instantly, again hunched protectively behind his shoulder that the small fist was striking, and scowled. "What the fuck is your problem?! You're the one acting like it's a goddamn pleasure cruise! Talking nicely to these creeps won't get you anywhere, rich boy!" He rubbed absently at his cheek, wiping away a second stain of blood, and spat. "Idiot-what the hell you think they mean? That they're not gonna do anything to you just 'cause I'm here?"

Ichijouji had gone quite quiet and pale during Daisuke's hissed words, his face calm and yet tightly furious. "Then explain it, since I apparently don't understand."

Daisuke yanked him closer by the chain connecting them and snarled in a low controlled voice. "You don't know anything, do you? They think you're cute-which means one of them is probably gonna be shoving his dick down your throat before you die, if not other places. You get it now? You're just meat to them. A paycheck. A fucking doll-for whatever it's fucking worth."

Eyes narrow, Ichijouji sneered again, seemingly heedless of the words that Daisuke spoke. "You speak as if you've been kidnapped before," he mocked. "Baka-"

"Blow me," Daisuke growled. "I don't care if you wanna stay here, but I plan on leaving before they can get to that part in the plan. And since we're cuffed, I guess you gotta come with."

Ichijouji let out a disbelieving snort. "And just how do you plan on escaping? The nonexistent window? Oh, wait-maybe the door will open if we knock!!" The boy yanked futilely on the cuff again, dragging his hand near again, and shot Daisuke a dark despairing glare. It was the only clue that the redhead had to judge the depths of his fear.

"Not now, rich boy." Daisuke replied scathingly. "Later. When there's only one person to deal with-I mean, think about it!" he said in Ichijouji's sudden distrustful look. "They have to bring you out for a phone call or some video thing, right? You have to be important enough for money-they won't hurt you yet."

"Yet."

Daisuke spat to the side again, feeling his cheek and jaw ache. "Yeah, yet. So we're gonna have to wait and see what happens and make a plan."

Ichijouji glanced down at their bound wrists with veiled disgust. "Sounds like a great plan," he muttered sourly. Then he spat out a frustrated sigh and curled his lip. "We will have to watch them closely," he conceded. "I don't know what I did, but I don't think they'll let me get out of this alive."

Daisuke smiled in the darkness. "What was your first clue?"

~-~-~

In a small and rather normal looking apartment in the upper-class sect of the Tamachi district, things were quiet and progressing the same as usual. All was well, for one young man, not quite adult and well past immaturity, seated at a desk and paging slowly through a text. Things were quiet, things were good, and to Ichijouji Osamu, things were exactly as they should be.

He was a young man with a profound and rather stunning intellect, of pleasing looks and quite aware of each aspect of himself. The particulars he didn't know were quickly and immediately dissected, analyzed and shuffled into their respective areas. Osamu was nothing if not thorough, and he was most definitely organized.

So that is why, in an idle thought sparked by some subtle secret sense, he raised his head as things quieted even further in the small apartment, and listened. A strange curious frown ghosted over his features, and for a moment he almost appeared confused.

Things were oddly too quiet. His parents, loving and doting as they were, were just switching on the television to watch the late news before heading off to bed-Osamu knew this ritual by heart. In precisely thirty-two minutes the sound of the television would be gone, replaced by the sound of his parents rising and shuffling about. Then the small polite knock upon his door, and a creak of the doorknob and his mother peeking inside to wish him good night and a small scolding for staying up too late.

A whisper of a smile fleeted over his mouth. Osamu loved his mother dearly, and his father with a fondness that stupefied him on occasion with its strength.

But…

As he sat there, with a sudden intuition-call it a brother's sense-he had a very strange and very bad feeling. Again, the apartment seemed too quiet, as if missing something-

~…surely not,~ he thought, resting a long and blunt-nailed hand upon the open face of the manual. ~I'm merely edgy tonight…~

~Besides,~ he thought in a sterner sense. ~Ken should be sneaking in sometime to bother me, as mother says…~

And then, as he realized that the sense of foreboding and the eerie silence was somehow tied into the unusual absence-thought perhaps it was merely a strange thought from devoting too much time to studying-

~Stop that. He's most likely in his room,~ Osamu told himself firmly, and looked back to his text.

But he couldn't study with the nagging persistence his intuition, rare as it was, niggling at his mind. Granted, he hadn't been home earlier in response to a small series of exams, but he was sure his mother had mentioned Ken sometime earlier.

Still, it was odd-

Osamu sighed, a fraction of annoyance at himself as he closed the text in defeat, and stood from the straight-backed chair. It slid backwards from the pressure of his legs with a rasp against the thin carpeting, and his clothing whispered as it fell back into place. Quick and lithe movements brought him to the door, and within seconds, not even aware of the worry in his eyes, he stood before his brother's room, hand outstretched. He twisted his hand, and the door pushed inwards without protest. Cool darkness lay inside…and his brother was nowhere to be seen.

A shiver sped down his back, and for the first time Osamu wasn't sure of what to do next.

"Osamu-chan? Is that you?'

A flash of surprise hit him, as he turned half way away from the open door, the cool metal of the knob under his fingers. "Hai, 'Kaasan."

His mother's voice floated back to him. "Are you done with your schoolwork?"

"Hai!" he repeated, fingers tightening. A vague sense of unease nicked underneath his worry. Out of common habit, he found his fingers pulling the door closed and he stepped away, legs moving him towards the open area of the living room.

His mother beamed at him when he appeared, and lowered the magazine in her hands. "Was there something you needed, dear?"

Osamu stared at her, thinking, ~Why isn't she worried?~ "'Kaasan…where's Ken?"

Blinking, seemingly unconcerned, Rika raised her eyes to her eldest and frowned prettily. "Isn't he in his room?"

"No, I just looked-" Osamu bit off his words, his mother already looking back to the television and felt an uncomfortable ache around his heart, something disturbingly akin to hatred. ~He's not here…I can't find him anywhere…~

As if on cue to his thoughts, the telephone hanging on the wall of the kitchen began to ring with oddly harsh tones, something that Osamu had never seemed to notice before. Startled, he stared at the piece uncomprehendingly for a moment, the second ring shattering the air.

"Go and answer it, Osamu," his father said without turning his head.

~It might be Ken,~ whispered the thought, and Osamu strode for the slim white plastic piece. It felt cold under his fingertips as he lifted it from the cradle, and put it to his ear. "Moshi Moshi."

Moments later the phone clattered to the floor and lay buzzing a disconnected whine to the unresponsive floor. The noise of the falling object raised Rika's concern, her motherly urge to prevent damage and her head turned slowly.

"Osamu?"

Osamu turned slowly, hand held out in front of him and lowering slowly, the hand lax. His eyes were wide and somewhat unfocused. He swallowed visibly, his face pale, and wet his lips twice before speaking. "Iie…Ken's been kidnapped…" He gave a great shuddering breath, and groped for the back of the chair to steady himself.

"What?" his mother exclaimed, the small spark of affection for her second son fanned into a brighter flame. "What did you say?" It was one of the most unusual things to hear…her younger son, kidnapped. ~It can't be true,~ she thought in the brief silence. ~Ken's a good boy, quiet and always polite-he couldn't have been-~

"He's been kidnapped!" Osamu's voice rose in unsteady hysteria, in unerring response to her inner thoughts. His eyes, when they rose to meet his mother's, were hard and burning with a mix of rage and fear. "They said…" Osamu's voice lowered into a horrified rasp.

"…they're going to kill him…"